Werewolves and Goblins and Aliens Oh My
by MurdocsAngel
Summary: Summary: When Jonathan O'Neill decided to start over again, he didn't realize just how hard a teenager's life could be. Especially when you're the clone of a fifty year old Air Force colonel who has traveled to other planets and kicked snake-alien butt an
1. The Team

**Rating: PG-13  
Archive: Whoever wants it :)  
Pairing: None  
Characters: MiniJack Disclaimer: SG-1 belongs to other than myself. Which is probably a good thing. Summary: When Jonathan O'Neill decided to start over again, he didn't realize just how hard a teenager's life could be. Especially when you're the clone of a fifty year old Air Force colonel who has traveled to other planets and kicked snake-alien butt and a group that hunts down anything having to do with aliens or the supernatural wants him to join them...**

A/N: Hey! M.A. here with my first MiniJack fic! It takes place right after Fragile Balance, so yes, 'colonel' is correct at this point. Hope you all enjoy! 

Werewolves and Goblins and Brain Sucking Aliens Oh My

Chapter One: The Team 

Jonathan O'Neill stood outside the classroom door that read 'B-211', a frown creasing his features as he studied the rectangular piece of paper that was supposed to be his schedule. Whatever happened to 'user friendly'? As far as he was concerned, the sheet was covered in indecipherable code where the only thing he had been able to make out was the room number 'B-211'. 

He had read Ancient text and--though he'd kill before letting anyone know it--several other alien writings before, and they were considerably easier to understand. A sigh escaped him and he decided that he should probably go inside before he got detention or something. If it was the wrong place, he had a very handy excuse ready. The truth. 

Folding the schedule up and tucking it into his pocket, he resolutely pushed the door open and walked in. Various conversations that had been buzzing about stopped abruptly at his entry, and twenty teenage faces stared at him. He ignored the questioning looks and walked over to the teacher's desk that was conspicuously empty, and a low hum spread through the room as conversations sprang up once more. 

Jon let out another sigh as he folded his arms and leaned back against the chalkboard to wait. What kind of school was this where teacher's were allowed to be ten minutes late to class? If he'd been late to any of his meetings at the SGC...oh wait. He had. A slow grin spread across his face, causing a girl who was sitting in a front desk, wearing her red hair in pigtails and thick glasses to scowl at him. 

"I don't see what you find so amusing," she told him in a clipped accent, "this class is completely out of control. It simply isn't done." 

"'It simpy isn't done'," the boy sitting behind her mimicked, "Honestly, Ginger, you were born in Georgia, not London." The kid had sandy blond hair that was long enough to pulled back at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, and mischevious grey eyes that were now rolling in amused annoyance. "Don't you believe a word she says." 

"Don't call me that," 'Ginger' growled, "It's uncivilized." 

"Just because it's a nickname you've been called since you were three?" 

"Why don't both you geekfaces shut the hell up," a voice from somewhere near the back called out, "And let us get on with our work, huh?" 

"You mean discussing how badly your team lost last night?" Long-hair asked, not at all put out by the put down, "Yes, that's so much more important than welcoming the new guy, Clive." 

Jon couldn't help but snort, which earned him a scowl from 'Clive' in the back--he had finally been able to make him out amidst the hulking forms of his teammates. He was tall, but looked absolutely scrawny in a red plaid shirt. His deep black hair was cropped short enough to please military regulations. 

"Find something funny about my name, cupcake?" Clive questioned threateningly, "Because if you do, I'll have to pummel you." 

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots," Jon taunted. Maybe he hadn't been able to take on two specially trained SF's, but teenaged punks he could handle. "Can't you come up with a better put down than cupcake? I mean come on. How about 'scrawny, rat faced weasel'...hell, as overdone as it is, shrimp would be better." 

Several students snickered collectively, making Jon grin--though 'Ginger' frowned in disapproval. Maybe this whole high school thing was a good idea, despite his misgivings. 

"Just what is going on in here?" 

Jon's grin faded as the rest of the class instantly sat at attention. Harold Adams was the vice principal, and who Jon had recieved his schedule from. A hatchet faced man with hard black eyes, Adams appeared to be a very tough, very scary individual. Especially when he was scowling at the room in that manner. 

"Oh you know," Jon quipped, unable to help himself, "We're learning. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at school." 

Once again the class snickered. Only this time, 'Ginger' wasn't the only one to disapprove. "Mr. O'Neill," Adams began, voice and mouth tight, "I realize that you are new to this school, so I'm just going to warn you this once that I do not like 'class clowns'. Now, where is Miss Lark?" 

"She had to go to the bathroom," Long-hair supplied helpfully, "Apparently she had too much coffee." 

Adams frown got impossibly deeper. "Third substitute this week...we're going to have to start doing thorough background checks. Well, then, since this is Study Hall, I guess you guys will be okay on your own. Miss Landers, if any of them get out of hand, just come and find me." The vice-principal pulled a pad from his pocket, marked something on it, tore the top sheet off and handed it to 'Ginger'. 

"I'll be back to check on you mid-way through the period," Adams said as he walked towards the door, "And I expect you to have found a seat by then, Mr. O'Neill." 

As the door shut with a snap, muted conversation filled the room once more. Jon sighed, hefted his backpack to a more comfortable position and looked around for an empty desk, ignoring at first, Long-hair's frantic motions at showing him the one right next to his. There were no others however, so Jon resolutely sat down. 

"Name's Keven Baker," Long-hair introduced himself, extending a hand, "I've got the highest GPA in the grade, besides Ginger. 

Oh great. Geeks. He just had to get the attention of the geeks, didn't he? Well, at least he wasn't much like Daniel. He was more like Jonas. 

"Jonathan O'Neill," Jon said taking the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake, "I'm emancipated." 

Kevin blinked rapidly and then grinned. "That is so cool. You have parties all the time huh? No adult supervision. Way cool." Okay, more like Felger. 

"Kevin, that is quite improper of you," Ginger spoke up, "Did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason he's no longer living with his parents or legal guardian? And my name is Natalie. Natalie Landers." She held her hand out as well. 

"Nice to meet you Nat," Jon said, shaking her hand too. He couldn't quite place who she reminded him of. Probably someone he hadn't dealt with much. 

"It's Natalie or Landers," Nat said with a sniff, "I don't approve of nicknames. They are quite vulgar." 

"I can think of a lot of things that are 'quite' a bit more vulgar," Jon told her with a grin, "But I doubt you'd appreciate it." 

Natalie frowned, and Kevin waved her away. "Anyway, Jon, where'd you move from?" 

"Toronto." It was the old fail safe. Just say you were from Canada, and no-one ever disbelieved you. 

"I'd say from your accent, Minnesota," Nat piped in, "Or possibly Chicago." 

Jon opened his mouth as he gazed at her in astonishment. Did she know? How else could she have guessed that? "What are you, Sherlock Holmes or something?" 

A pleased grin crossed her face and she nodded happily. "I'm studying to be a forensic scientist, like he was. And even though it's not part of any of the programs at the colleges, I believe linguistics can be a very useful tool in determining..." 

As she spoke, Jon could feel relief seeping through him. Of course a teenager wasn't going to know anything about Asgards and cloning. Well, most teenagers. There was Cassie. And himself. Despite having all the memories of a fifty year old Air Force Colonel, he was technically a teenager. At least on the outside. 

"Yeah yeah," Clive interrupted, making Jon look up. The guy was incredibly quiet for a dumb jock. "That's nice. So, if you're really from Minnesota or Chicago, why'd you say you were from Toronto?" 

"Because that's where I most recently moved from," Jon answered easily, having recovered from his earlier shock. Man, this teenage thing was messing with him. He would never have given himself away like that before. At least not so quickly. 

"The rude, ignorant one," Kevin drawled, "with whom you have already verbally sparred and come out on top, is Clive Baker, my half-brother." 

"What kinda name is Clive?" Jon asked, honestly curious. 

Clive glanced at him, as though making sure it wasn't teasing, then shrugged. "No clue. It was my real dad's name. At least according to my mom. He died right before I was born, and she named me after him even though she had already married Kevin's dad." 

"So you..." 

"So Kevin skipped a grade." 

"Ah." 

Apparently this was all that was needed to make friends with the guy, because he settled himself on the corner of Jon's desk and began drumming his fingers. A comfortable silence settled over them, even with all the conversations between other students. 

"You'd better go sit down, Clive," Natalie said suddenly, "Because Adams will be here soon. And you're already in trouble for barely passing. One more time in trouble and you won't be able to play anymore." 

Clive sighed and stood up, stretching. "Yeah yeah. It's not like we win anyway, so what does it matter if I play or not?" He nevertheless took his seat just before Adams walked in. 

After the princiapal had left, Clive rejoined them at their desks. "So, Jon...you been in boot camp or something?" 

_Or something, _ Jon thought ironically. Out loud he retorted, "No, have you? I'm assuming you asked because of my haircut." 

"Oh. Yeah. I guess..." 

"'You should never jump to conclusions with first gathering all the facts'," Natalie quoted, "Assumptions and guesses can lead you in quite the wrong direction. Although, I was going to ask the same thing, Jon. You look quite relaxed, but it's obvious that you've had some kind of disciplinary training." 

"My uncle's an Air Force Colonel. He expects discipline in those who share his genetic material." There, now that wasn't too big a lie. And uncle could be used as a term for someone who was older than you that you respected. And he did respect himself. 

"How come you don't live with him?" Kevin asked. 

"He lost his son a few years ago, and having anyone my age around bugs him," Jon answered. Also not completely a lie. "Anyway, I'm better off on my own. My parents didn't exactly take care of me when they were alive." 

"Oh, that's terrible," Natalie exclaimed, "and I'm guessing it's been hard to keep any friends when you have to move so much." 

"I thought you didn't believe in guessing?" Kevin taunted, recieving a scowl in return. 

Jon shrugged, looking down at his desk. He'd had friends. Really great friends. There was Daniel, who had grown so much since the goofy geek he'd met seven years ago. Teal'c, who was a staunch ally no matter what. And Carter. He bit his lip and looked back up with a grin, pushing those thoughts aside. He wasn't that Jack O'Neill anymore. They were no longer his friends. 

"Yeah, but hey, I've got my own place now, so it's been worth it." 

All three of them traded glances with each other before looking back at him in pity. He groaned. "Really, guys. I'm perfectly okay with my life as it is. Maybe things could be better, but they aren't bad now and that's what you got to look at sometimes, or you'll go crazy." 

"Yeah," Clive agreed. 

"I suppose," Kevin and Natalie chorused. 

After that, there didn't seem to be much else to say, and silence once again stretched over them, this time awkward. 

"I've got an idea," Kevin said, breaking the tension, "why don't you come with us to the Memorial Cemetary after school." 

Clive and Natalie both chimed in with their agreements. "Yeah! It'll be fun. Come on, Jon!" 

Jon blinked. "At the cemetary? Why the cemetary." 

All at once, the three of them looked around the room, as though to make sure no one was listening in. Then, Natalie leaned closer and whispered, "We'll tell you when we get there and if you decide never to speak with us again after that, we'll understand. But just hear us out first, okay?" 

Jon looked at each of them, their faces shining with hope, and gave a sigh of resignation. "Fine. But on one condition." He waited until they all traded a worried glance before grinning and continuing, "could one of you help me figure out what the rest of my schedule says?" 

tbc.... 


	2. The Goal

**Malaskor: You're right, it's not a crossover. I probably should have made that clear in the first chapter. :) Thanks for the review! **

Because I forgot to mention it in the first chapter...Natalie "Ginger" Landers, Clive and Kevin Baker and other characters not recognizable were made up by my strange mind.

Chapter Two: The Goal

Memorial Cemetary used to be a small plot of privately owned land set aside for burying family members. In the sixties, the family had unaccountably packed up and moved, selling everything, including the cemetary. It was made into a historical landmark because of its age, and for a few years there had been tours. Now, it was old and run down, with vines and weeds growing up over the stone headstones. The wooden crosses had long since vanished to dust.

It was said that the last owner of the land had done something to anger the spirits of the dead, and now the place was cursed. People who lived nearby reported hearing howls and other such noises coming from it.

Jon shivered and pulled the light-weight jacket shut as a chill ran down his spine. It was of course just the wind; he didn't believe in ghosts or curses. Unless the 'ghosts' were freaky glowy ascended thingies. He'd seen them several times. In fact, Daniel had, at one point, been one. At least he had the memory of his friend's descension...

With an impatient shake of his head, Jon pushed open the large, ornate gate that had probably been very fancy at one point in time. Rust and weather had erased the lettering and frescoes that had at one time adorned it so that they were impossible to make out, and its rusty hinges squealed in protest at being used after so long. Wincing at the sound, Jon stepped inside and closed it behind him.

While the decay was obvious from outside, now that he was in, it looked a whole lot worse. While he couldn't feel it, there had to be wind, because the leaves of the vines that wrapped around headstones and stone angels rustled with a random rhythm. Rubble littered the ground, and several of the stones had large gouges in them, as though something had come along and scratched them up.

"Jon! You came!"

The sudden loud voice made him jump and he whirled around to face Clive, hand over his pounding heart. "Don't _do_ that!"

The taller boy grinned impudently and waved for him to move on. "C'mon, everyone's already in the crypt."

"Crypt?" Jon's voice cracked annoyingly. Great. His voice hadn't completely changed yet. "What are you guys, some kind of cult?" It had been a quip, but the sudden realization that nobody knew where he was since he didn't live with parents and that these people _knew_ that hit him like a zat blast.

"Not really," Clive hedged, "Look, if you don't want to keep an open mind about all this, then maybe you should go on. We don't need people like you."

Memories of the last cult he'd dealt with filled his mind and Jon quickly shook his head. "No no. I told Nat that I'd hear you out, and hear you out I will." Even if he didn't promise to hang around if he didn't like what he heard.

Clive grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, making Jon stumble forward a step. "That's the spirit Jon!"

Jon rubbed his shoulder and watched as the other boy walked on towards their destination. For a tall skinny guy, he sure was strong. Jon had been thinking basketball was Clive's thing, but now he reassessed his deduction and decided football or hockey before running to catch up.

The 'crypt' turned out to be just that. So much for hoping that it was just a metaphor for something else, sort of a themed thing. Jon looked at Clive, reluctant to enter. "Couldn't we just, you know, talk out here? I've got this thing about going into dead people's homes..."

"It's just like the cemetary, except enclosed instead of exposed to the air," Clive said reassuringly, "Don't worry, as long as you stick with me you won't get hurt."

"Oh that makes me feel loads better," Jon muttered unhappily, "it's just that this reminds me of this time I went with a friend of mine into a..." he caught himself before he said 'Gould mothership' "an Egyptian tomb." Close enough.

"You've been to Egypt?"

Jon had to grin at the eagerness in the boy's voice. "Oh yeah. Loads of times." Did going to another planet whose culture was almost entirely like the ancient Egyptians count? He sighed. "Okay, I'll go in. But if I don't come back out...I'm going to be very unhappy with you."

Overly hesitant, he stepped inside the crypt to find himself immersed in total darkness. A groan escaped him right before lights began coming on one at a time. He blinked in the sudden brightness and turned to say something to Clive who had followed him in, only to stop in confusion. The kid was looking at the walls in wonder, and fear.

"Let me guess, you guys aren't responsible for this."

"No...we've looked at these walls and floor several times trying to figure out what they're for, but...this has never happened..." Clive began babbling.

Jon frowned and glanced at the walls, only to have to suppress another groan. Runes were etched in a beautiful pattern that was unwelcomingly familiar. Ancient. He had a bad feeling he had been responsible for the lights coming on.

To keep his curiousity from getting the better of him--both because he didn't want to blow his top-secret-classified-not-worth-spending-time-in-prison-for-letting-it-slip identity and because he didn't want anyone to know exactly how much knowledge his brain could retain despite his 'dumber-than-dirt' act--he shrugged nonchalantly and looked studiously away from the runes.

"Right, so weren't we going to meet the others?"

Clive shook his head as if to clear it, glanced worriedly one more time at the walls, then nodded and began walking further into the crypt. If crypt it really was. How creepy would it be to find the remains of an Ancient? Jon had to run to catch up once more as his thoughts wandered.

He'd have to tell someone about this place. Maybe there was something here that could help lead them to the lost city. But first, he'd hear his new friends out. If they were on the up and up, and just doing some kind of weird club thing, then he'd make it so that they never knew he'd been the one to reveal their secret hide-out. If they weren't...then they had more problems to worry about than lights suddenly coming on without explanation.

As they walked, the darkness receded before them, making that sinking feeling in Jon's gut grow. As he'd expected, it was because of him that the Ancient stuff was working. While Clive hadn't connected it yet, Kevin might, and Natalie definitely would. Steeling himself for a possible confrontation--and trying desparately to keep the I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on-either look on his face, he followed Clive into a small room off the main corridor.

"Well it's about time you two got here," Kevin said as soon as they'd walked in, "this stuff's going haywire!"

"What'd you do, knock something down again, Kev," Clive asked with a roll of his eyes.

Just as Jon had anticipated, Natalie instantly pounced with her observations. "No, Kevin hasn't touched anything--for once. Strange, don't you think, that the first time we invite someone knew, everything suddenly turns on?"

Jon stared back, keeping a confused, wide-eyed expression on his face as three pairs of eyes focused on him. "What? Wait, you think this is because of _me_?" He paused and then grinned. "I know what this is. It's a test of some kind, to see if I'm gonna freak out. So, do I pass?"

They traded glances and then Kevin shook his head. "No test Jon, but it's as good as any we could have come up with. It is obvious that you were meant to be a part of this group." The tone of voice and sentence structure were strangely formal and ceremonial seeming.

"I don't even know what this group does," Jon protested, "And just because some lights come on, you think I'm meant to be? It's called 'motion sensor'. Heard of it?"

Natalie smiled sadly, looking far older than her fifteen years in that moment. "I'm afraid not, Jonathan. You see, this isn't a crypt. It's a space ship left by an alien race a long time ago. Probably before the Great Pyramids were built."

Jon blinked, the sinking feeling plummeting his stomach down to his shoes. "I see. Next you're going to tell me that the pyramids were actually landing pads for space ships."

This time the three of the exchanged confused looks. "Uh no," Clive said, "that's just some crackpot theory made up by some archaeologist looking to make a name for himself."

A short little laugh escaped before Jon could suppress. Either these kids were really great actors or they really had no idea. "That's kinda hypocritical of you, considering you've shown me absolutely no proof that this...is a ship." Derision dripped from his tone, though inside he was squirming.

"Jon, there are more things in this universe that you and others like you could never understand," Natalie said suddenly, "you promised you'd hear us out, but obviously you're not ready for this. Even if you can make the technology work." She turned her back on him, and the two boys glared.

Knowing that he really needed to get to the bottom of this, he held up his hands in a placating manner. "Look, I am willing to hear you out. But you've got to expect me to ask questions, okay? I'm not just going to take your word on faith. We just met for cryin' out loud. There hasn't been enough time for us to gain that much trust yet."

The red-head turned back around, pig-tails swaying slightly, and adjusted her thick glasses back up on her nose. She regarded him seriously a moment before nodding. "Okay. In 1960, my grandparents found this lab. The family had been using it as a burial chamber for over a hundred years.

"Somehow, they made this particular work station active and it scared them nearly to death. They were extremely superstitious and immediately sold their land to a local historical society. The society thought it would be a good idea to take people around on tours of such an old place."

Jon nodded as the girl took a deep breath. He already knew all this, but as someone who had lived on the eastern side most of his life and had never been in Colorado ever til now, he would have to pretend he was hearing the story for the first time. He was learning some new facts. Like how the family hadn't cut all ties with their land.

"Well," Nat continued, "what they thought was just silly superstition turned out to be a sophisticated defense mechanism that this ship uses when grounded. Five people were killed before the tours stopped. Again, the land was abandoned." Here, Natalie swallowed and looked down at the ground.

"So how did you come to be here, and manage to turn off the defense?"

"I...was interested in the tales my grandparents told, and I...wanted to see for myself. There had to be a logical explanation. Anyway, I came and...figured this out and then Clive and Kevin came and we all became friends and decided to band together to search out all supernatural and alien rumors in the area."

Jon nodded. "And you want me to join you, because?"

"Because we thought you might be different from everyone else. Each on of us has our own little reason for joining. Me, I lost my parents in a plane crash. Except that there was no record of the particular plane they were supposed to be on, and no record of any crash. I've looked and researched it until I'm sure something else is responsible. Nat belives aliens really do exist because of this ship, and Clive...well Clive has his reasons too."

Shifting uncomfortably Jon looked at each of their hopeful expressions and sighed. He was probably going to regret this but..."Yeah. I guess I will join you. It...sounds interesting. As long as you don't try to make me _do_ anything with this stuff." And he could always get more information for when he told the SGC about this.

tbc....


	3. Developments

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And sorry I took so long in updating...McKay kept distracting me...**

Chapter Three: Developments 

The next day, Jon shrugged into his jacket and raced out the door of his small loft apartment, backpack in hand. He lived close enough to the school, but had spent so much time pondering whether to contact the SGC with what he already knew about his new friends, or to wait and see what else they came up with. Except for the fact that they met in some kind of Ancient ship and believed ghosts and goblins were real, they were harmless enough. 

And they had no real idea about the kinds of life outer space could hold, their heads filled with all the nonsense from sci fi shows. So, Jon finally decided to wait. He'd found that as long as he didn't touch anything in the Ancient ship, it was completely inactive, and as far as he could tell from when he'd looked through the database he and Natalie had found the night before, it didn't contain any new information that the SGC absolutely had to know at that moment. 

The school was just up ahead, and a quick glance at his watch told him that he would be on time, so he slowed down a little to catch his breath. As the building came into sight, he straightened his shoulders and pulled the backpack over one and began walking causually towards the front door, nodding to a few kids he'd met in some of his other classes yesterday. 

Though Study Hall was the only class he'd had with Clive, Natalie and Kevin yesterday, today he was with at least one of them in all his classes. Which was a good thing, because today's classes were all the boring ones. Honors Math, Honors English, Physics and Home Economics. That last one had sent both Kevin and Clive into fits of laughter, but Natalie had shut them up by pointing out that they were both in it too. 

All in all, the three of them were good kids, even if they were a little strange. And Jon had seen much stranger things than a few ghost hunters who happened to have become lucky enough to actually have found something alien. Grinning happily, he walked into the building and headed for his first class. 

He smiled politely at the teacher, an older gentleman with a hooked nose and dark eyes who nodded in return and held out his hand. Jon slung his backpack to the floor and pulled out the crumpled schedule and handed it to him. The teacher pulled out a roll sheet and wrote in Jon's information, then handed the schedule back. 

"I'm Dr. Montgomery," the man said, "You may take your seat anywhere you like since you're the first one here. I don't assign seats like my other colleages, because I can actually remember a student's name." 

There was a long pause as Dr. Montgomery stared at Jon. Finally, Jon got the idea and picked a seat at the front, figuring Nat would sit somewhere near him when she got in. Something was bothering him though, and he couldn't quite place it. Then, as Montgomery turned and began writing equations on the board, it hit him. 

The man had once worked at the SGC, but Jon--Jack--had only seen him a couple of times preferring to stay away from the civilian scientific personnel. Well, even if the man did know anything about the whole cloning incident, he wasn't likely to say anything. In fact, if he did know, he certainly wasn't letting Jon in on it. 

The first bell rang then, and students began pouring into the classroom. Natalie, looking a little out of breath and a little put out, took the seat next to his, ignoring the jives of a stocky, good looking young man who was wearing a letterman's jacket. Jon scowled at the jock, having met him yesterday in his Latin class. 

Donald Caufield was a stereotypical jock whose parents had lots of money. They were the reason he was in honors classes he couldn't hope to pass and a language class that he couldn't even hope to sit through without falling asleep. Catching Jon's eye, the kid sneered and pointed at Natalie as he walked past. 

"Watch out for the four-eyed freak, Jon," Donald snickered, "She's got her eye on you. I can tell." 

"Why don't you shut your mout, Mister Caufield," Montgomery said without turning around, "And have a seat. You're failing as it is, and if you don't concentrate, you may not pass the semester." 

Donald's thick face turned purple and his hands clenched into fists, then he took a deep breath and sauntered to his seat in the back, a relaxed smile on his face. "You wouldn't fail me Doc, "I'm needed on the team." 

"No, Clive Baker is needed on the team," Montgomery instantly retorted, "You're just another player who can easily be replaced. You're not even that good. Just because Mommy and Daddy payed your way on to the team doesn't mean you get to stay there if you don't do well in class." 

Now Montgomery turned to them, a flashing look in his eyes, "Now, for those of you on time today I want you to copy down these equations for the quiz. We'll start at exactly seven thirty five." 

The rest of the class passed uneventfully, and just as Jon had figured, he was bored out of his mind. The equations were simple--to a man who'd already recieved a PhD in Astronomy--and Jon finished them quickly. Finally, the class was over, and he rose to his feet with alacrity, handing in the day's assignment. 

He started to leave with Natalie--whose face still looked disturbed from Donald's taunting--but Montgomery motioned for him to remain behind. Natalie gave them both odd looks, but shrugged. 

"I'll see you in the next class, Jon," she told him and walked out the door. 

Jon watched her go, then turned to face Montgomery. The man waited until the last of the students had left before he shut the door and locked it. Then he sat down on the corner of his desk and gave Jon a wry smile. 

"Major Carter asked that I look after you, O'Neill, make sure you get by okay," Montgomery said still smiling, "Imagine my surprise when I found out you were in my class. In _this_ class." 

Carter had asked him to look after him? Jon didn't know what to think about that, and so didn't. His life was becoming complicated enough without dredging up all his emotional baggage. 

"I should be offended by that," Jon quipped, grinning, "but I won't be, if you swear not to tell anyone I'm taking honors courses. Jack's got a reputation to uphold after all." 

Montgomery snorted and shook his head. "I bet you don't even remember me." 

"Nope," Jon answered cheerfully, "Now, I better go before I'm late. Nat doesn't like it when her friends are late." 

Montgomery stood and opened the door for him. "I'm going to grade your work harder than everyone elses, Jon, so you better be doing your best." 

Jon groaned good-naturedly and gave a jaunty salute before walking out. So much for not getting complicated. Now he'd actually have to try in class. 

English went by a lot better than Math, because Donald actually wasn't in it. Jon made himself the sweetheart of the teacher right away by his wonderful knowledge of grammer, and by pointing out everyone else's mistakes, including Natalie's. Nat fortunately found it amusing, and as they walked towards his next class--she was taking biology while he was taking physics--she rolled her eyes at him. 

"Honestly, Jon," she told him, "With the way you act sometimes, I can't tell whether you're fifteen or fifty." 

Jon laughed and shook his head. _If only she knew..._ "Yeah well, I've spent too much time around my uncle." 

"Oh!" Nat said suddenly, "Before I forget, you're invited to dinner tonight at my house. We all go there once a week to have dinner and my older sister's home from school for a week, she's the greatest cook." 

Jon blinked. "Dinner? Uh sure. I don't have to...wear anything formal, do I?" 

"No," Natalie said, then looked around to make sure no one else was listening and leaned in closer and whispered, "Niki's gonna show you some things about our club." 

Jon nodded. So, there were more than just the three of them involved in this thing? Well, good thing he'd waited to tell anyone about it. Now he could find out just how many people were involved without letting them know they were being investigated. "Gotcha," he said, "I'll look forward to it. I really do need Home Ec you know..." 

Natalie grinned and then waved at him as she left him to contemplate the new information at his classroom door. tbc.... 


	4. Dinner and a Show

**A/N: So sorry it took so long to get this one out. I actually had the first 1000 words written a while ago, but couldn't figure out where to go from there. Then, recently I had an epiphany. This fic will eventually cross over with Stargate: Atlantis!**

Chapter Four: Dinner and a Show 

"Holy Hannah." 

Despite the annoyed look Nat gave him, Jon felt that he deserved to voice his awe in the soft-spoken words. Her 'house' was a two-story Victorian style manor, and it really was unfair of her not to have warned him. She rolled her eyes and pulled him along the marble pathway (marble!) to the imposing French doors and then inside the largish foyer. A butler that put him in mind of Lurch, and the fact that he was what he was, caused him to be himself. 

"You rang?" 

All he got for his trouble was an elbow in the ribs and a tersely hissed, "Jonathan, seriously, behave yourself!" 

He rubbed his now bruised ribs and grinned impertinently. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Besides, you _could_ have told me you lived in a freakin' mansion." 

She grumbled under her breath and steered him down a very long hallway before sighing in resignation. "I know I probably should have, but I'd rather it not get around. Too many people would try to come around and visit, pretending they were friends of mine. And if they were to get in, well you can see where there might be problems, right?" 

"Sure, they'd never find their way back to daylight again," Jon quipped, "Seriously, though. I really _don't_…" he broke off as a man wearing chain-mail and brandishing a sword in a threatening manner charged towards them. "On second thought…I know what you mean. Hope you never bring boyfriends here, cause _that_ would definitely be a kill-joy," he murmured, earning him another poke in the ribs and a glare. 

"Halt! Thou must answer three questions. The number of questions is three. Three thou must answer!" 

"Uh, I think you doth misquoted," Jon remarked casually, then held up his hands when the tip of the sword was placed at the hollow of his throat, "Of course, if that's the way you want to say it, who am I to argue?" 

"Harry, put the sword away," an amused feminine voice said from behind them, "And go back to your…room. You should know better." 

Jon kept his eyes on the fellow with the sword until it was reluctantly sheathed. Then, the knight bowed low. "As you command, Lady Nicole, I obey." And with that turned and walked off, chain mail clinking with each step. 

'Lady Nicole' turned out to be a tallish woman with short, bouncy red curls that were all over the place. She gave him a crooked smile and a tiny shrug. "Sorry about that. Don't let him scare you off." She winked. "Ginger's never brought a boyfriend home before." 

"My name is _Natalie_," Nat protested, before Jon could, cheeks turning red, "And he is not my boyfriend. He's the one I was telling you about yesterday." She huffed and put her hands on her hips. "You weren't paying any attention were you? So intent on your _schooling_ that you forget what's important…" 

Nicole's demeanor changed abruptly, fury snapping in her blue eyes. "Right and what we do is _so_ important we have to forget about life outside of it. How _could_ I have forgotten?" She turned abruptly on her heel and stomped off down the hall, in the same direction as Harry had taken. It was about then that Jon realized the hallway now had several connecting corridors that hadn't been there before. He blinked rapidly. 

"Uh…so, I take it your not happy with your sister? That _was_ your sister, right?" he asked, "And is it just me, or is something very weird going on in this house?" 

Natalie let out a heavy sigh and shrugged. "No, yes and yes. But I can't explain until after dinner, after you've been fully accepted." 

"Sweet," he muttered, "Look, a mansion that does a really good impression of Hogwarts, I can sort of handle, and I understand that it would be rather difficult to talk about in mixed company. However, no one mentioned I'd have to go through some kind of 'acceptance' ritual, and I don't think…what?" 

Natalie was laughing, her eyes crinkled behind the thick lenses. "Nothing like that Jonathan," she assured him, "Just having you meet all the principles is all. Believe me, they'll accept you. Except maybe Viktor, but he's pretty protective when it comes to having new people around. Oh! And whatever you do, do _not_ mention the ship in the cemetery. No one except us three…well four now…know about it." 

"Uh…sure," Jon said, his mind filing away that information as important. The less people who know that there was an Ancient designed ship on the planet, the less chance of someone unsavory finding out about it. Although, he was once again filled with doubt on whether or not everything here was on the up and up. 

After all, it could be some elaborately planned Goa'uld plot. Those damned snakeheads were always gaining a technological edge, just when they seemed beat; like, Anubis for instance. He shook his head slightly and grinned at Nat. "So, are Clive and Kev gonna be here tonight too?" 

"No," she said musingly, "Clive's got practice and Kevin…well he's searching for something to help his brother out." 

"Oh?" 

She smiled and tugged on his arm again. "You'll know all about it after dinner, I promise." 

"Promises, promises," he grumbled back, allowing himself to be once more led down the confusing hallway. The manor had seemed huge on the outside, but now…well apparently appearances could be deceiving because there was no way there could be so many rooms, just in one freakin' corridor. 

Just as Jon thought the journey would never come to an end, and he'd be forced to wander an endless hallway endlessly, Natalie came to an abrupt halt, Jon had to backpedal a bit so he didn't run into her, and then steered them through a doorway. Inside was a large oval shaped table with an impressive floral arrangement as the centerpiece. There were four chairs placed around the end closest to the doorway and four table settings to correspond with each chair. 

"Strange," Natalie mused as she pushed Jon into one of the chairs, "Viktor's usually here early on these nights. I hope he hasn't got caught up working on the equipment again." As she finished speaking, she flopped down into the chair next to him and gave a world weary sigh. "Either that or Niki's complaining to him about me and how _obsessed_ I am with all we do here. As if he isn't just as obsessed. The only reason she even sees him as an ally is because he's got a degree in some kind of engineering, which actually has nothing to do with what Niki's even going to school for." 

Jon blinked. He had never heard the redhead go on so long about anything—granted, Kevin or Clive was usually around to stop her mid-rant… 

"So, how come you call her Niki instead of Nicole?" 

"Huh?" 

Jon rolled his eyes at her blank stare. "And here I thought you were a Holmes wannabe. You said you hated nicknames. But you call your sister Niki instead of Nicole." 

"Oh that," Nat waved her hand dismissively, "she's far too immature to deserve to be called anything less than a degrading shortening of her name." 

"That, and Natalie has called her 'Niki' since she vas small," a rich, slightly accented baritone intoned from behind them. 

Jon turned his head, and then had to turn around completely to make certain he was seeing things right. Sure enough, the man who had spoken was indeed wearing a black leather vest over a 19th century cream silk shirt and black leather pants. If that weren't bad enough, he also wore a full length cloak that was thrown back over a shoulder in an artful manner and his longish brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. 

"What are you, Dracula?" 

The man's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "Perhaps." 

"Oh just sit down Viktor," Niki said, having come in the door just after the vampire-wannabe. To Jon she added, "He isn't always like this, he's just trying to gauge your reaction." 

"Pfft! You stay out of conversation; is between myself and…boy," Viktor admonished. 

"Ri-ight," Jon interrupted before the impending argument he sensed began, "So, you're trying to make me believe in vampires by dressing in the clichéd way nosferatu have been shown in countless B movies? Puh-lease, even your accent isn't believable." 

This earned him yet another jab in the ribs from his new friend. "Ow, will you cut that out? I think you might have broken them…" 

"He's Czechoslovakian, Jon," Niki supplied with a wry smile before Nat could blast him with an admonishment, "so the accent is quite real." 

Jon looked between the three of them, and then sighed with resignation. "But Viktor isn't your real name, is it?" 

"No," the Czech-who-would-be-Dracula, "but even the girls do not know my real name…I feel it is best. But! Before business, we eat!" 

A door which previously had not been there opened, and servants in white and gold livery bearing steaming dishes streamed out as soon as the words had been spoken. Vik grinned and sat down on Jon's other side, leaving Niki to sit beside Natalie. 

"Well," Jon leaned over to whisper in Nat's ear, "That wasn't so bad…I thought this was the guy we'd really have to convince?" 

"You still do," Natalie assured him, "you haven't yet been told everything about us, and if it doesn't work out, you won't remember anything except that you came and had dinner with us. And that you don't ever want to again." 

"Right." 

Dinner went by without a hitch—and without a word. Apparently it was bad manners to speak while eating a fancy supper, and several times Jon had been jabbed in the ribs. Sheesh. You'd think Nat would tell him _before_ they had dinner. Of course, then she wouldn't be able to satisfy her sadistic need to torture his poor side. 

Now the four of them were once more wandering the Endless Corridor, and Jon had the uneasy feeling that this was probably part of the so called 'test', even though Nat had assured him all they were doing was 'meeting the principles'. Nicole and Viktor were only two people, and Jon wondered if there were any more, or if the elder Landers and the Czech were it. It also occurred to Jon that he hadn't met some other important people. 

"I know Kevin and Clive's parents 'disappeared'," he began, "but where are yours, Nat?" 

"Oh they went out for dinner this evening, since Niki's home," she said loftily, "they haven't had a real break ever since she went off to school." The word school was spat out as if it were a dirty word. 

"Is nothing wrong with school," Viktor interjected, before the other redhead could come up with a proper rejoinder, "It is good to expand your horizons, gain as much knowledge as you can. Besides, Nicole is becoming doctor." 

"Well goody gumdrops for her," Natalie spat, "and if she were actually going to use that in helping us out, like _you_ do with your degree, then I'd be fine with it. But no, she wants to become a geneticist and go study in Scotland for some obscure reason." 

"For one thing, genetics could very well prove to be extremely helpful to this operation. It could tell us why people like Viktor and Clive seem like perfectly normal human beings, and can even pass the most extensive of physicals without making anyone suspicious and yet be what they are. Second of all…" 

"What do you mean Clive and Viktor 'seem human'?" Jon demanded, interrupting the fierce response, his heart pounding as it seemed his worst fears had come true. And if the Goa'uld had found a way to make it impossible for anyone to tell they were using human hosts, or worse…. 

"That's part of what we have to tell you," Niki said, sounding apologetic, "I know, it's all going to sound a bit…odd at first, but Vik will prove that we're not lying. But first, we've got to meet the Board, get their permission." 

"You said we already had their permission!" Nat protested, "Otherwise I'd have never brought him here!" 

"Precisely," Niki agreed smugly, "His reaction to the manor is an important factor in their decision." 

Jon smirked slightly. Well, they weren't that much different that some other bigwigs he'd dealt with in his lifetime. Which had been a long time. He sighed. Really, wasn't he getting too old for this? Nope, in fact, he was once more at the starting gate, waiting to see if he could get out first. 

"I have to warn you," he quipped, "I've got this really big problem about pissing these kind of people off." 

"Perhaps if you spend time listening instead of talking, this vould not happen," Vik suggested lightly. 

"I listen." A bit of mock hurt entered his voice before he continued with, "Just not to boring things like speeches from…" 

"Well, here we are!" Natalie jerked his arm before he could continue and pulled him into yet another doorway. 

"Okay yeah, this? It's gonna get real old, real fast." 

Especially if he was going to be pulled into a completely dark room with absolutely no idea of where he was or if he could get out on his own. Even with Natalie's hand on his arm, he wasn't at all reassured, and still convinced that he had been pulled into the middle of something that was big—something that he could have handled as a fifty year old Air Force col., but as a sixteen year old with the mind of said Air Force Col., he wasn't so sure of himself. 

The room began to gradually become lighter, until he could see that they were now in a theatre, complete with stadium style seating. He blinked and glanced at the bespectacled girl beside him. 

"Have a seat," she suggested, "the Board will be with us momentarily." 

"So, what? We're gonna watch a movie?" 

"Sort of," she prevaricated, "The Board will come in, say whether or not they approve of you, and if they do, then…well you'll see." 

"I hate surprises," he told her. 

"This is a good surprise," Niki said from behind them, giving them both a gentle push, "trust me." 

"Don't say that," Viktor said, eyes widening as if she'd said something incredibly terrible, "Every time you do, I manage to get hit over the head somehow!" 

"Well, if you'd quit bending over at odd times, that wouldn't happen." Niki huffed and turned her head away, apparently miffed. 

"Pfft, I was not bending over when door opened suddenly, or when generator blew up or…" 

"Okay okay!" Niki relented, waving her arms wildly "But how is that my…" 

Her voice trailed off as one of her hands smacked squarely into Viktor's nose. "That is how," he muttered, clutching his face and sounding nasal, "you open door, you played with my equipment when I expressly told you not to and…" 

"Fine, it was all my fault. Now sit down and shut up. The Board's here." 

The Board, it turned out was a group of four women and three men, all middle aged. They looked normal, but Jon recalled what Niki had said about Clive and Vik 'seeming human', and had to wonder. 


End file.
